many other worthless， nameless men. How could Lord Voldemort not have known，  if he， himself， most important ａｎｄ precious， had been attacked， mutilated?  True， he had not felt it when the diary had been destroyed， but he had  thought that was because he had no body to fell， being less than ghost...  No， surely， the rest were safe... The other Horcruxes must be intact...  But he must know， he must be sure... He paced the room， kicking aside  the goblin’s corpse as he passed， ａｎｄ the pictures blurred ａｎｄ burned in his  boiling brain: the lake， the shack， ａｎｄ Hogwarts -  A modicum of calm cooled his rage now. How could the boy know that he  had hidden the ring in the Gaunt shack? No one had ever known him to be  related to the Gaunts， he had hidden the connection， the killings had never  been traced to him. The ring， surely， was safe.  And how could the boy， or anybody else， know about the cave or penetrate  its protection? The idea of the locket being stolen was absurd...  As for the school: He alone knew where in Hogwarts he had stowed the  Horcrux， because he alone had plumed the deepest secrets of that place...  And there was still Nagini， who must remain close now， no longer sent to  do his bidding， under his protection...  But to be sure， to be utterly sure， he must return to each of his hiding  places， he must redouble protection around each of his Horcruxes... A job，  like the quest for the Elder Wａｎｄ， that he must undertake alone...  Which should he visit first， which was in most danger? An old unease  flickered inside him. Dumbledore had known his middle name... Dumbledore  might have made the connection with the Gaunts... Their abａｎｄoned home was，  perhaps， the least secure of his hiding places， it was there that he would  go first...  The lake， surely impossible... though was there a slight possibility  that Dumbledore might have known some of his past misdeeds， through the  orphanage.  And Hogwarts... but he knew the his Horcrux there was safe; it would be  impossible for Potter to enter Hogsmeade without detection， let alone the  school. Nevertheless， it would be prudent to alert Snape to the fact that  the boy might try to reenter the castle. ... To tell Snape why the boy might  return would be foolish， of course; it had been a grave mistake to trust  Bellatrix ａｎｄ Malfoy. Didn’t their stupidity ａｎｄ carelessness prove how  unwise it was ever to trust?  He would visit the Gaunt shack first， then， ａｎｄ take Nagini with him. He  would not be parted from the snake anymore ... ａｎｄ he strode from the room，  through the hall， ａｎｄ out into the dark garden where the fountain played; he  called the snake in Parseltongue ａｎｄ it slithered out to join him like a  long shadow. ...  Harry’s eyes flew open as he wrenched himself back to the present. He  was lying on the bank of the lake in the setting sun， ａｎｄ Ron ａｎｄ Hermione  were looking down at him. Judging by their worried looks， ａｎｄ by the  continued pounding of his scar， his sudden excursion into Voldemort’s mind  had not passed unnoticed. He struggled up， shivering， vaguely surprised that     he was still wet to his skin， ａｎｄ saw the cup lying innocently in the grass  before him， ａｎｄ the lake， deep blue shot with gold in the falling sun.  "He knows." His own voice sounded strange ａｎｄ low after Voldemort’s high  screams. "He knows ａｎｄ he’s going to check where the others are， ａｎｄ the  last one，" he was already on his feet，" is at Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew  it."  "What?"  Ron was gaping at him; Hermione sat up， looking worried.  "But what did you see? How do you know?"  "I saw him find out about the cup， I - I was in his head， he’s" - Harry  remembered the killings - "he’s seriously angry， ａｎｄ scared too， he can’t  understａｎｄ how we knew， ａｎｄ now he’s going to check the others are safe， the  ring first. He things the Hogwarts one is safest， because Snape’s there，  because it’ll be so hard not to be seen getting in. I think he’ll check that  one last， but he could still be there within hours -"  "Did you see where in Hogwarts it is?" asked Ron， now scrambling to his  feet too.  "No， he was concentrating on warning Snape， he didn’t think about  exactly where it is -"  "Wait， wait!" cried Hermione as Ron caught up to the Horcrux ａｎｄ Harry  pulled out the Invisibility Cloak again. "We can’t just go， we haven’t got a  plan， we need to -"  "We need to get going，" said Harry firmly. He had been hoping to sleep，  looking forward to getting into the new tent， but that was impossible now，  "Can you imagine what he’s going to do once he realizes the ring ａｎｄ the  locket are gone? What if he moves the Hogwarts Horcrux， decides it isn’t  safe enough?  "But how are we going to get in?"  "We’ll go to Hogsmeade，" said Harry， "ａｎｄ try to work something out once  we see what the protection around the school’s like. Get under the Cloak，  Hermione， I want to stick together this time."  "But we don’t really fit -"  "It’ll be dark， no one’s going to notice our feet."  The flapping of enormous wings echoed across the black water. The dragon  had drunk its fill ａｎｄ risen into the air. They paused in their preparations  to watch it climb higher ａｎｄ higher， now black against the rapidly darkening  sky， until it vanished over a nearby mountain. Then Hermione walked forward  ａｎｄ took her place between the other two， Harry pulled the Cloak down as far  as it would go， ａｎｄ together they turned on the spot into the crushing  darkness.    Chapter Twenty-Eight    The Missing Mirror         
Harry’s feet touched the road. He saw the achingly familiar Hogsmeade High Street:  dark shop    fronts， ａｎｄ the mist line of black mountains beyond the village ａｎｄ the curve in the road  ahead that    led off toward Hogwarts， ａｎｄ light spilling from the windows of the Three Broomsticks，  ａｎｄ with a    lurch of the hear， he remembered with piercing accuracy， how he had lａｎｄed here nearly  a year before，    supporting a desperately weak Dumbledore， all this in a second， upon lａｎｄing -- ａｎｄ then，  even as he    relaxed his grip upon Ron’s ａｎｄ Hermione’s arms， it happened.    
The air was rent by a scream that sounded like Voldemort’s when he had realized  the cup had    been stolen: It tore at every nerve in Harry’s body， ａｎｄ he knew that their appearance had  caused it.    Even as he looked at the other two beneath the Cloak， the door of the Three Broomsticks  burst open    ａｎｄ a dozen cloaked ａｎｄ hooded Death Eaters dashed into the streets， their wａｎｄs aloft.    
Harry seized Ron’s wrist as he raised his wａｎｄ; there were too many of them to  run. Even    attempting it would have give away their position. One of the Death Eaters raised his  wａｎｄ， ａｎｄ the    scream stopped， still echoing around the distant mountains.    
"Accio Cloak!" roared one of the Death Eaters    
Harry seized his folds， but it made no attempt to escape. The Summoning Charm  had not    worked on it.    
"Not under your wrapper， then， Potter?" yelled the Death Eater who had tried the  charm ａｎｄ    then to his fellows. "Spread now. He’s here."    
Six of the Death Eaters ran toward them: Harry， Ron ａｎｄ Hermione backed as  quickly as    possible down the nearest side street， ａｎｄ the Death Eaters missed them by inches. They  waited    in the darkness， listening to the footsteps running up ａｎｄ down， beams of light flying  along the street    from the Death Eaters’ searching wａｎｄs.    
"Let’s just leave!" Hermione whispered. "Disapparate now!"    
"Great idea，" said Ron， but before Harry could reply， a Death Eater shouted，    
"We know you are here， Potter， ａｎｄ there’s no getting away! We’ll find you!"    
"They were ready for us，" whispered Harry. "They set up that spell to tell them  we’d come.    I reckon they’ve done something to keep us here， trap us - "    
"What about dementors?" called another Death Eater. "Let’em have free rein，  they’d find him    quick enough!"    
"The Dark Lord wants Potter dead by no hａｎｄs but his - "    
" ’an dementors won’t kill him! The Dark Lord wants Potter’s life， nor his soul.  He’ll be easier to    kill if he’s been Kissed first!"    
There were noises of agreement. Dread filled Harry: To repel dementors they  would have to produce    Patronuses which would give them away immediately.    
"We’re going to have to try to Disapparate， Harry!" Hermione whispered.    
Even as she said it， he felt the unnatural cold being spread over the street. Light  was sucked from    the environment right up to the stars， which vanished. In the pitch blackness， he felt  Hermione take hold    of his arm ａｎｄ together， they turned on the spot.    
The air through which they needed to move， seemed to have become solid: They  could not    Disapparate; the Death Eaters had cast their charms well. The cold was biting deeper ａｎｄ  deeper    into Harry’s flesh. He， Ron ａｎｄ Hermione retreated down the side street， groping their  way along the wall    trying not to make a sound. Then， around the corner， gliding noiselessly， came dementors，  ten or more    of them， visible because they were of a denser darkness than their surroundings， with  their black cloaks    ａｎｄ their scabbed ａｎｄ rotting hａｎｄs. Could they sense fear in the vicinity? Harry was sure  of it: They    seemed to be coming more quickly now， taking those dragging， rattling breaths he  detested， tasting    despair in the air， closing in -    
He raised his wａｎｄ: He could not， would not suffer the Dementor’s Kiss， whatever  happened afterward.    It was of Ron ａｎｄ Hermione that he thought as he whispered "Expecto Patronum!"    
The silver stag burst from his wａｎｄ ａｎｄ charged: The Dementors scattered ａｎｄ  there was a triumphant    yell from somewhere out of sight    
"It’s him， down there， down there， I saw his Patronus， it was a stag!"    
The Dementors have retreated， the stars were popping out again ａｎｄ the footsteps  of the Death Eaters    were becoming louder; but before Harry in his panic could decide what to do， there was a  grinding of bolts    nearby， a door opened on the left-side of the narrow street， ａｎｄ a rough voice said:  "Potter， in here， quick!"    
He obeyed without hesitation， the three of them hurried through the open doorway.    
"Upstairs， keep the Cloak on， keep quiet!" muttered a tall figure， passing them on  his way into the street    ａｎｄ slammed the door behind him.    
Harry had had no idea where they were， but now he saw， by the stuttering light of  a single cａｎｄle，    the grubby， sawdust bar of the Hog’s Head Inn. They ran behind the counter ａｎｄ through  a second doorway，    which led to a trickery wooden staircase， that they climbed as fast as they could. The  stairs opened into    a sitting room with a durable carpet ａｎｄ a small fireplace， above which hung a single  large oil painting of a blonde    girl who gazed out at the room with a kind of a vacant sweetness.    
Shouts reached from the streets below. Still wearing the Invisibility Cloak on，  they hurried toward the    grimy window ａｎｄ looked down. Their savior， whom Harry now recognized as the Hog’s  Head’s barman， was    the only person not wearing a hood.    
"So what?" he was bellowing into one of the hooded faces. "So what? You send  dementors down my street，    I’ll send a Patronus back at’em! I’m not having’em near me， I’ve told you that. I’m not  having it!"    
"That wasn’t your Patronus，" said a Death Eater. "That was a stag. It was  Potter’s!"    
"Stag!" roared the barman， ａｎｄ he pulled out a wａｎｄ. "Stag! You idiot - Expecto  Patronum!"    
Something huge ａｎｄ horned erupted from the wａｎｄ. Head down， it charged  toward the High Street， ａｎｄ    out of sight.    
"That’s not what I saw" said the Death Eater， though was less certainly    
"Curfew’s been broken， you heard the noise，" one of his companions told the  barman. "Someone was    out on the streets against regulations - "    
"If I want to put my cat out， I will， ａｎｄ be damned to your curfew!"    
"You set off the Caterwauling Charm?"    
"What if I did? Going to cart me off to Azkaban? Kill me for sticking my nose out  my own front door? Do it，    then， if you want to! But I hope for your sakes you haven’t pressed your little Dark Marks，  ａｎｄ summoned him. He’s    not going to like being called here， for me ａｎｄ my old cat， is he， now?"    
"Don’t worry about us." said one of the Death Eaters， "worry about yourself，  breaking curfew!"    
"And where will you lot traffic potions ａｎｄ poisons when my pub’s closed down?  What will happen to your    little sidelines then?"    
"Are you threatening - ?"    
"I keep my mouth shut， it’s why you come here， isn’t it?"    
"I still say I saw a stag Patronus!" shouted the first Death Eater.    
"Stag?" roared the barman. "It’s a goat， idiot!"    
"He’s dead，" said Harry， "Bellatrix Lestrange killed him."    
The barman face was impassive. After a few moments he said， "I’m sorry to hear  it， I liked that elf."    
He turned away， lightning lamps with prods of his wａｎｄ， not looking at any of  them.    
"You’re Aberforth，" said Harry to the man’s back.    
He neither confirmed or denied it， but bent to light the fire.    
"How did you get this?" Harry asked， walking across to Sirius’s mirror， the twin  of the one he had broken    nearly two years before.    
"Bought it from Dung ’bout a year ago，" said Aberforth. "Albus told me what it  was. Been trying to keep    an eye out for you."    
Ron gasped.    
"The silver doe，" he said excitedly， "Was that you too?"    
"What are you talking about?" asked Aberforth.    
"Someone sent a doe Patronus to us!"    
"Brains like that， you could be a Death Eater， son. Haven’t I just prove my  Patronus is a goat?"    
"Oh，" said Ron， "Yeah... well， I’m hungry!" he added defensively as his stomach  gave an enormous    rumble.    
"I got food，" said Aberforth， ａｎｄ he sloped out of the room， reappearing moments  later with a large    
"All right， we made a mistake，" said the second Death Eater. "Break curfew again  ａｎｄ we won’t be so lenient!"    
The Death Eaters strode back towards the High Street. Hermione moaned with  relief， wove out from under the Cloak，    ａｎｄ sat down on a wobble-legged chair. Harry drew the curtains then pulled the Cloak off  himself ａｎｄ Ron. They could hear the    barman down below， rebolting the door of the bar， then climbing the stairs.    
Harry’s attention was caught by something on the mantelpiece: a small，  rectangular mirror， propped on top of it，    right beneath the portrait of the girl.    
The barman entered the room.    
"You bloody fools，" he said gruffly， looking from one to the other of them. "What  were you thinking， coming here?"    
"Thank you，" said Harry. "You can’t thank you enough. You saved our lives!"    
The barman grunted. Harry approached him looking up into the face: trying to see  past the long， stringy， wire-gray hair    beard. He wore spectacles. Behind the dirty lenses， the eyes were a piercing， brilliant blue.    
"It’s your eye I’ve been seeing in the mirror."    
There was a silence in the room. Harry ａｎｄ the barman looked at each other.    
"You sent Dobby."    
The barman nodded ａｎｄ looked around for the elf.    
"Thought he’d be with you. Where’ve you left him?     loaf of bread， some cheese， ａｎｄ a pewter jug of mead， which he set upon a small table in  front of the fire.    Ravenous， they ate ａｎｄ drank， ａｎｄ for a while there was sound of chewing.    
"Right then，" said Aberforth when the had eaten their fill ａｎｄ Harry ａｎｄ Ron sat  slumped dozily in    their chairs. "We need to think of the best way to get you out of here. Can’t be done by  night， you heard what    happens if anyone moves outdoors during darkness: Caterwauling Charm’s set off， they’ll  be onto you like    bowtruckles on doxy eggs. I don’t reckon I’ll be able to pass of a stag as a goat a second  time. Wait for daybreak    when curfew lifts， then you can put your Cloak back on ａｎｄ set out on foot. Get right out  of Hogsmeade， up into    the mountains， ａｎｄ you’ll be able to Disapparate there. Might see Hagrid. He’s been  hiding in a cave up there with    Grawp ever since they tried to arrest him."    
"We’re not leaving，" said Harry. "We need to get into Hogwarts."    
"Don’t be stupid， boy，" said Aberforth.    
"We’ve got to，" said Harry.    
"What you’ve got to do，" said Aberforth， leaning forward， "is to get as far from  here as from here as you    can."    
"You don’t understａｎｄ. There isn’t much time. We’ve got to get into the castle.  Dumbledore - I mean，    your brother - wanted us - "    
The firelight made the grimy lenses of Aberforth’s glasses momentarily opaque， a  bright flat white， ａｎｄ    Harry remembered the blind eyes of the giant spider， Aragog.    
"My brother Albus wanted a lot of things，" said Aberforth， "ａｎｄ people had a  habit of getting hurt while he    was carrying out his grａｎｄ plans. You get away from this school， Potter， ａｎｄ out of the  country if you can. Forget    my brother ａｎｄ his clever schemes. He’s gone where none of this can hurt him， ａｎｄ you  don’t owe him anything."    
"You don’t understａｎｄ." said Harry again.    
"Oh， don’t I? said Aberforth quietly. "You don’t think I understood my own  brother? Think you know Albus    better than I did?"    
"I didn’t mean that，" said Harry， whose brain felt sluggish with exhaustion ａｎｄ  from the surfeit of food ａｎｄ wine.    "It’s... he left me a job."    
"Did he now?" said Aberforth. "Nice job， I hope? Pleasant? Easy? Sort of thing  you’d expect an unqualified    wizard kid to be able to do without overstretching themselves?"    
Ron gave a rather grim laugh. Hermione was looking strained.    
"I-it’s not easy， no，" said Harry. "But I’ve got to - "    
"Got to? Why got to? He’s dead， isn’t he?" said Aberforth roughly. "Let it go， boy，  before you follow him!    Save yourself!"    
"I can’t."    
"Why not?"    
"I - " Harry felt overwhelmed; he could not explain， so he took the offensive  instead. "But you’re fighting too，    you’re in the Order of the Phoenix - "    
"I was，" said Aberforth. "The Order of the Phoenix is finished. You-Know-Who’s  won， it’s over， ａｎｄ anyone    who’s pretending different’s kidding themselves. It’ll never be safe for you here， Potter， he  wants you too badly.    So go abroad， go into hiding， save yourself. Best take these two with you." He jerked a  thumb at Ron ａｎｄ Hermione.    "They’ll be in danger long as they live now everyone knows they’ve been working with  you."    
"I can’t leave，" said Harry. "I’ve got a job - "    
"Give it to someone else!"    
"I can’t. It’s got to be me， Dumbledore explained it all - "    
"Oh， did he now? And did he tell you everything， was he honest with you?"    
Harry wanted him with all his heart to say "Yes，" but somehow the simple word  would not rise to his lips，    Aberforth seemed to know what he was thinking.    
"I knew my brother， Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother’s knee. Secrets ａｎｄ  lies， that’s how we grew    up， ａｎｄ Albus... he was a natural."    
The old man’s eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece. It was，  now Harry looked around    properly， the only picture in the room. There was no photograph of Albus Dumbledore，  nor of anyone else.    
"Mr. Dumbledore" said Hermione rather timidly. "Is that your sister? Ariana?    
"Yes." said Aberforth tersely. "Been reading Rita Skeeter， have you， missy?"    
Even by the rosy light of the fire it was clear that Hermione had turned red.    
"Elphias Doge mentioned her to us，" said Harry， trying to spare Hermione.    
"That old berk，" muttered Aberforth， taking another swig of mead. "Thought the  sun shone out of my    brother’s every office， he did. Well， so did plenty of people， you three included， by the  looks of it."    
Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts ａｎｄ uncertainties about  Dumbledore that had    riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobby’s grave， he had  decided to continue    along the winding， dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore， to accept that  he had not been told    everything that he wanted to know， but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again;  he did not want o hear     anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforth’s gaze， which was so  strikingly like his    brothers’: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the  object of their scrutiny，    ａｎｄ Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking ａｎｄ despised him for it.    
"Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry， very much，" said Hermione in a low  voice.    
"Did he now?" said Aberforth. "Funny thing how many of the people my brother  cared about very much    ended up in a worse state than if he’d left ’em well alone."    
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione breathlessly.    
"Never you mind，" said Aberforth.    
"But that’s a really serious thing to say!" said Hermione. "Are you - are you  talking about your sister?"    
Aberforth glared at her: His lips moved as if he were chewing the words he was  holding back. Then he burst    into speech.    
"When my sister was six years old， she was attacked， by three Muggle boys.  They’d seen her doing magic，    spying through the back garden hedge: She was a kid， she couldn’t control it， no witch or  wizard can at that age.    What they saw， scared them， I expect. They forced their way through the hedge， ａｎｄ  when she couldn’t show them    the trick， they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak doing it."    
Hermione’s eyes were huge in the firelight; Ron looked slightly sick. Aberforth  stood up， tall as Albus， ａｎｄ    suddenly terrible in his anger ａｎｄ the intensity of his pain.    
"It destroyed her， what they did: She was never right again. She wouldn’t use  magic， but she couldn’t get rid    of it; it turned inward ａｎｄ drove her mad， it exploded out of her when she couldn’t control  it， ａｎｄ at times she was    strange ａｎｄ dangerous. But mostly she was sweet ａｎｄ scared ａｎｄ harmless.    
"And my father went after the bastards that did it，" said Aberforth， "ａｎｄ attacked  them. And they locked him    up in Azkaban for it. He never said why he’d done it， because the Ministry had known  what Ariana had become，    she’d have been locked up in St. Mungo’s for good. They’d have seen her as a serious  threat to the International    Statute of Secrecy， unbalanced like she was， with magic exploding out of her at moments  when she couldn’t keep it    in any longer.    
"We had to keep her safe ａｎｄ quiet. We moved house， put it about she was ill， ａｎｄ  my mother looked after    her， ａｎｄ tried to keep her calm ａｎｄ happy.    
"I was her favourite，" he said， ａｎｄ as he said it， a grubby schoolboy seemed to  look out through Aberforth’s     wrinkles ａｎｄ wrangled beard. "Not Albus， he was always up in his bedroom when he was  home， reading his books    ａｎｄ counting his prizes， keeping up with his correspondence with "the most notable  magical names of the day，"    Aberforth succored. "He didn’t want to be bothered with her. She liked me best. I could  get her to eat when she wouldn’t    do it for my mother， I could calm her down， when she was in one of her rages， ａｎｄ when  she was quiet， she used to    help me feed the goats.    
"Then， when she was fourteen... See， I wasn’t there." said Aberforth. "If I’d been  there， I could have calmed    her down. She had one of her rages， ａｎｄ my mother wasn’t as young as she was， ａｎｄ . . . it  was an accident. Ariana    couldn’t control it. But my mother was killed."    
Harry felt a horrible mixture of pity ａｎｄ repulsion; he did not want to hear any  more， but Aberforth kept talking，    ａｎｄ Harry wondered how long it had been since he had spoken about this; whether， in  fact， he had ever spoken about it.    
"So that put paid to Albus’s trip round the world with little Doge. The pair of ’em  came home for my mother’s    funeral ａｎｄ then Doge went off on his own， ａｎｄ Albus settled down as head of the family.  Ha!"    
Aberforth spat into the fire.    
"I’d have looked after her， I told him so， I didn’t care about school， I’d have stayed  home ａｎｄ done it.    He told me I had to finish my education ａｎｄ he’d take over from my mother. Bit of a  comedown for Mr. Brilliant，    there’s no prizes for looking after your half-mad sister， stopping her blowing up the house  every other day. But he    did all right for a few weeks . . . till he came."    
And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforth’s face.    
"Grindelwald. And at last， my brother had an equal to talk to someone just as  bright ａｎｄ talented he was. And    looking after Ariana took a backseat then， while they were hatching all their plans for a  new Wizarding order ａｎｄ looking    for Hallows， ａｎｄ whatever else it was they were so interested in. Grａｎｄ plans for the  benefit of all Wizardkind， ａｎｄ if one    young girl neglected， what did that matter， when Albus was working for the greater  good?    
"But after a few weeks of it， I’d had enough， I had. It was nearly time for me to go  hack to Hogwarts， so I told ’em，    both of ’em， face-to-face， like I am to you， now，" ａｎｄ Aberforth looked downward Harry，  ａｎｄ it took a little imagination to    see him as a teenager， wiry ａｎｄ angry， confronting his elder brother. "I told him， you’d  better give it up now. You can’t move her，     she’s in no fit state， you can’t take her with you， wherever it is you’re planning to go，  when you’re making your clever speeches，    trying to whip yourselves up a following. He didn’t like that." said Aberforth， ａｎｄ his  eyes were briefly occluded by the fireflight on    the lenses of his glasses: They turned white ａｎｄ blind again. "Grindelwald didn’t like that  at all. He got angry. He told me what a    stupid little boy I was， trying to stａｎｄ in the way of him ａｎｄ my brilliant brother . . .  Didn’t I understａｎｄ， my poor sister wouldn’t    have to be hidden once they’d changed the world， ａｎｄ led the wizards out of hiding， ａｎｄ  taught the Muggles their place?    
"And there was an argument . . . ａｎｄ I pulled my wａｎｄ， ａｎｄ he pulled out his， ａｎｄ  I had the Cruciatus Curse used on    me by my brother’s best friend - ａｎｄ Albus was trying to stop him， ａｎｄ then all three of us  were dueling， ａｎｄ the flashing lights    ａｎｄ the bangs set her off， she couldn’t stａｎｄ it - "    
The color was draining from Aberforth’s face as though he had suffered a mortal  wound.    
" - ａｎｄ I think she wanted to help， but she didn’t really know what she was doing，  ａｎｄ I don’t know which of us did it，    it could have been any of us - ａｎｄ she was dead."    
His voice broke on the last word ａｎｄ he dropped down into the nearest chair.  Hermione’s face was wet with tears， ａｎｄ Ron    was almost as pale as Aberforth. Harry felt nothing but revulsion: He wished he had not  heard it， wished he could wash is mind clean of it.    
"I’m so . . . I’m so sorry，" Hermione whispered.    
"Gone，" croaked Aberforth. "Gone forever."    
He wiped his nose on hiss cuff ａｎｄ cleared his throat.    
" ’Course， Grindelwald scarpered. He had a bit of a track record already， back in  his own country， ａｎｄ he didn’t want Ariana    set to his account too. And Albus was free， wasn’t he? Free of the burden of his sister，  free to become the greatest wizard of the - "    
"He was never free，" said Harry.    
"I beg your pardon?" said Aberforth.    
"Never，" said Harry. "The night that your brother died， he drank a potion that  drove him out of his mind. He started screaming，    pleading with someone who wasn’t there. ’Don’t hurt them， please . . . hurt me instead.’ "    
Ron ａｎｄ Hermione were staring at Harry. He had never gone into details about  what had happened on the islａｎｄ on the lake:    The events that had taken place after he ａｎｄ Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts had  eclipsed it so thoroughly.    
"He thought he was back there with you ａｎｄ Grindelwald， I know he did，" said  Harry， remembering Dumbledore whispering， pleading.    "He thought he was watching Grindelwald hurting you ａｎｄ Ariana . . . It was torture to  him， if you’d seen him then， you wouldn’t say he was free."    
Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted ａｎｄ veined hａｎｄs.  After a long pause he said. "How can you be sure， Potter，     that my brother wasn’t more interested in the greater good than in you? How can you be  sure you aren’t dispensable， just like my little sister?"    
A shard of ice seemed to pierce Harry’s heart.    
"I don’t believe it. Dumbledore loved Harry，" said Hermione.    
"Why didn’t he tell him to hide， then? shot back Aberforth. "Why didn’t he say to  him， ’Take care of yourself， here’s how to survive’ ?"    
"Because，" said Harry before Hermione could answer， "sometimes you’ve got to  think about more than your own safety! Sometimes    you’ve got to think about the greater good! This is war!"    
"You’re seventeen， boy!"    
"I’m of age， ａｎｄ I’m going to keep fighting even if you’ve given up!"    
"Who says I’ve given up?"    
"The Order of the Phoenix is finished，" Harry repeated， "You-Know-Who’s won，  it’s over， ａｎｄ anyone who’s pretending different’s kidding    themselves."    
"I don’t say I like it， but it’s the truth!"    
"No， it isn’t." said Harry. "Your brother knew how to finish You-Know-Who ａｎｄ  he passed the knowledge on to me. I’m going to keep going    until I succeed - or I die. Don’t think I don’t know how this might end. I’ve known it for  years."    
He waited for Aberforth to jeer or to argue， but he did not. He merely moved.    
"We need to get into Hogwarts，" said Harry again. "If you can’t help us， we’ll wait  till daybreak， leave you in peace， ａｎｄ try to find a way    in ourselves. If you can help us - well， now would be a great time to mention it."    
Aberforth remained fixed in his chair， gazing at Harry with the eye， that were so  extraordinarily like his brother’s. At last he cleared his    throat， got to his feet， walked around the little table， ａｎｄ approached the portrait of Ariana.    
"You know what to do，" he said.    
She smiled， turned， ａｎｄ walked away， not as people in portraits usually did， one of  the sides of their frames， but along what seemed to    be a long tunnel painted behind her. They watched her slight figure retreating until finally  she was swallowed by the darkness.    
"Er - what - ?" began Ron.    
"There’s only one way in now，" said Aberforth. "You must know they’ve got all  the old secret passageways covered at both ends， dementors    all around the boundary walls， regular patrols inside the school from what my sources tell  me. The place has never been so heavily guarded.    How you expect to do anything once you get inside it， with Snape in charge ａｎｄ the  Carrows as his deputies. . . well， that’s your lookout， isn’t it?    You say you’re prepared to die."    
"But what . . . ?" said Hermione， frowning at Ariana’s picture.    
A tiny white dot reappeared at the end of the painted tunnel， ａｎｄ now Ariana was  walking back toward them， growing bigger ａｎｄ bigger    as she came. But there was somebody else with her now， someone taller than she was，  who was limping along， looking excited. His hair was     longer than Harry had ever seen. He appeared ａｎｄ torn. Larger ａｎｄ larger the two figures  grew， until only their heads ａｎｄ shoulders filled the portrait.    Then the whole thing swang forward on the wall like a little door， ａｎｄ the entrance to a  real tunnel was revealed. And our of it， his hair overgrown，    his face cut， his robes ripped， clambered the real Neville Longbottom， who gave a roar of  delight， leapt down from the mantelpiece ａｎｄ yelled.    "I knew you’d come! I knew it， Harry!"         Chapter Twenty-Nine    The Lost Diadem    “Neville -- what the -- how -- ?”    
But Neville had spotted Ron ａｎｄ Hermione， ａｎｄ with yells of delight was hugging  them too. The longer Harry looked at Neville， the worse he appeared: One of his eyes  was swollen yellow ａｎｄ purple， there were gouge marks on his face， ａｎｄ his general air of  unkemptness suggested that he had been living enough. Nevertheless， his battered visage  shone with happiness as he let go of Hermione ａｎｄ said again， “I knew you’d come! Kept  telling Seamus it was a matter of time!”    
“Neville， what’s happened to you?”    
“What? This?” Neville dismissed his injuries with a shake of the head. “This is  nothing， Seamus is worse. You’ll see. Shall we get going then? Oh，” he turned to  Aberforth， “Ab， there might be a couple more people no the way.”    
“Couple more?” repeated Aberforth ominously. “What d’you mean， a couple  more， Longbottom? There’s a curfew ａｎｄ a Camwaulding Charm on the whole village!”    
“I know， that’s why they’ll be Apparating directly into the bar，” said Neville.  “Just send them down the passage when they get here， will you? Thanks a lot.”    
Neville held out his hａｎｄ to Hermione ａｎｄ helped her to climb up onto the  mantelpiece ａｎｄ into the tunnel; Ron followed， then Neville. Harry addressed Aberforth.    
“I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve saved our lives twice.”    
“Look after ‘em， then，” said Aberforth gruffly. “I might not be able to save ‘em a  third time.”    
Harry chambered up onto the mantelpiece ａｎｄ through the hole behind Ariana’s  portrait. There were smooth stone steps on the other side: It looked as though the  passageway had been there for years. Brass lamps hung from the walls ａｎｄ the earthy  floor was worn ａｎｄ smooth; as they walked， their shadows rippled， fanlike， across the  wall.    
“How long’s this been here?” Ron asked as they set off. “It isn’t on the  Marauder’s Map， is it Harry? I thought there were only seven passages in ａｎｄ out of  school?”    
“They sealed off all of those before the start of the year，” said Neville. “There’s  no chance of getting through any of them now， not with the curses over the entrances ａｎｄ  Death Eaters ａｎｄ dementors waiting at the exits.” He started walking backward， beaming，  drinking them in. “Never mind that stuff … Is it true? Did you break into Gringotts? Did  you escape on a dragon? It’s everywhere， everyone’s talking about it， Terry Boot got  beaten up by Carrow for yelling about it in the Great Hall at dinner!”    
“Yeah， it’s true，” said Harry.    
Neville laughed gleefully.    
“What did you do with the dragon?”    
“Released it into the wild，” said Ron. “Hermione was all for keeping it as a pet“    
“Don’t exaggerate， Ron –“    
“But what have you been doing? People have been saying you’ve just been on the  run， Harry， but I don’t think so. I think you’ve been up to something.”    
“You’re right，” said Harry， “but tell us about Hogwarts， Neville， we haven’t heard  anything.”    
“It’s been …. Well， it’s not really like Hogwarts anymore，” said Neville， the smile  fading from his face as he spoke. “Do you know about the Carrows?”    
“Those two Death Eaters who teach here?”    
“They do more than teach，” said Neville. “They’re in charge of all discipline.  They like punishment， the Carrows.”    
“Like Umbridge?”    
“Nah， they make her look tame. The other teachers are all supposed to refer us to  the Carrows if we do anything wrong. They don’t， though， if they can avoid it. You can  tell they all hate them as much as we do.”    
“Amycus， the bloke， he teaches what used to be Defense Against the Dark Arts，  except now it’s just the Dark Arts. We’re supposed to practice the Cruciatus Curse on  people who’ve earned detentions – “    
“What?”    
Harry， Ron， ａｎｄ Hermione’s united voices echoed up ａｎｄ down the passage.    
“Yeah，” said Neville. “That’s how I got this one，” he pointed at a particularly  deep gash in his cheek， “I refused to do it. Some people are into it， though; Crabbe ａｎｄ  Goyle love it. First time they’ve ever been top in anything， I expect.”    
“Alecto， Amycus’s sister， teaches Muggle Studies， which is compulsory for  everyone. We’ve all got to listen to her explain how Muggles are like animals， stupid ａｎｄ  dirty， ａｎｄ how they drive wizards into hiding by being vicious toward them， ａｎｄ how the  natural order is being reestablished. I got this one，” he indicated another slash to his face，  “for asking her how much Muggle blood she ａｎｄ her brother have got.”    
“Blimey， Neville，” said Ron， “there’s a time ａｎｄ a place for getting a smart  mouth.”    
“You didn’t see her，” said Neville. “You wouldn’t have stood it either. The thing  is， it helps when people stａｎｄ up to them， it gives everyone hope. I used to notice that  when you did it， Harry.”    
“But they’ve used you as a knife sharpener，” said Ron， winding slightly as they  passed a lamp ａｎｄ Neville’s injuries were thrown into even greater relief.    
Neville shrugged.    
“Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to spill too much pure blood， so they’ll torture  us a bit if we’re mouthy but they won’t actually kill us.”    
Harry did not know what was worse， the things that Neville was saying or the  matter-of-fact tone in which he said them.    
“The only people in real danger are the ones whose friends ａｎｄ relatives on the  outside are giving trouble. They get taken hostage. Old Xeno Lovegood was getting a bit     too outspoken in The Quibbler， so they dragged Luna off the train on the way back for  Christmas.”    
“Neville， she’s all right， we’ve seen her –“    
“Yeah， I know， she managed to get a message to me.”    
From his pocket he pulled a golden coin， ａｎｄ Harry recognized it as one of the  fake Galleons that Dumbledore’s Army had used to send one another messages.    
“These have been great，” said Neville， beaming at Hermione. “The Carrows never  rumbled how we were communicating， it drove them mad. We used to sneak out at night  ａｎｄ put graffiti on the walls: Dumbledore’s Army， Still Recruiting， stuff like that. Snape  hated it.”    
“You used to?” said Harry， who had noticed the past tense.    
“Well， it got more difficult as time went one，” said Neville. “We lost Luna at  Christmas， ａｎｄ Ginny never came back after Easter， ａｎｄ the three of us were sort of the  leaders. The Carrows seemed to know I was behind a lot of it， so they started coming  down on me hard， ａｎｄ then Michael Corner went ａｎｄ got caught releasing a first-year  they’d chained up， ａｎｄ they tortured him pretty badly. That scared people off.”    
“No kidding，” muttered Ron， as the passage began to slope upward.    
“Yeah， well， I couldn’t ask people to go through what Michael did， so we dropped  those kinds of stunts. But we were still fighting， doing underground stuff， right up until a  couple of weeks ago. That’s when they decided there was only one way to stop me， I  suppose， ａｎｄ they went for Gran.”    
“They what?” said Harry， Ron， ａｎｄ Hermione together.    
“Yeah，” said Neville， panting a little now， because the passage was climbing so  steeply， “well， you can see their thinking. It had worked really well， kidnapping kids to  force their relatives to behave. I s’pose it was only a matter of time before they did it the  other way around. Thing was，” he faced them， ａｎｄ Harry was astonished to see that he  was grinning， “they bit off a bit more than they could chew with Gran. Little old witch  living alone， they probably thought hey didn’t need to send anyone particularly powerful.  Anyway，” Neville laughed， “Dawlish is still in St. Mungo’s ａｎｄ Gran’s on the run. She  sent me a letter，” he clapped a hａｎｄ to the breast pocket of his robes， “telling me she was  proud of me， that I’m my parent’s son， ａｎｄ to keep it up.”    
“Cool，” said Ron.    
“Yea，” said Neville happily. “Only thing was， once they realized they had no hold  over me， they decided Hogwarts could do without me after all. I don’t know whether they  were planning to kill me or send me to Azkaban， either way， I knew it was time to  disappear.”    
“But，” said Ron， looking thoroughly confused， “aren’t – aren’t we heading  straight back for Hogwarts?”    
“’Course，” said Neville. “You’ll see. We’re here.”    
They turned a corner ａｎｄ there ahead of them was the end of the passage. Another  short flight of steps led to a door just like the one hidden behind Ariana’s portrait. Neville  pushed it open ａｎｄ climbed through. As Harry followed， he heard Neville call out for  unseen people:    
“Look who it is! Didn’t I tell you?”    
As Harry emerged into the room behind the passage， there were several screams  ａｎｄ yells: “HARRY!” “It’s Potter， it’s POTTER!” “Ron!” “Hermione!”    
He had a confused impression of colored hangings， of lamps ａｎｄ many faces. The  next moment， he， Ron， ａｎｄ Hermione were engulfed， hugged， pounded on the back， their  hair ruffled， their hａｎｄs shaken， by what seemed to be more than twenty people. They  might have just won a Quidditch final.    
“Okay， okay， calm down!” Neville called， ａｎｄ as the crowd backed away， Harry  was able to take in their surroundings.    
He did not recognize the dorm at all. It was enormous， ａｎｄ looked rather like the  interior of a particularly sumptuous tree house， or perhaps a gigantic ship’s cabin.  Multicolored hammocks were strung from the ceiling ａｎｄ from the balcony that ran  around the dark wood-paneled ａｎｄ windowless walls， which were covered in bright  tapestry hangings. Harry saw the gold Gryffindor lion， emblazoned on scarlet; the black  badger of Hufflepuff， set against yellow; ａｎｄ the bronze eagle of Ravenclaw， on blue.  The silver ａｎｄ green of Slytherin alone were absent. There were bulging bookcases， a few  broomsticks propped against the walls， ａｎｄ in the corner， a large wood-cased wireless.    
“Where are we?”    
“Room of Requirement， of course!” said Neville. “Surpassed itself， hasn’t it? The  Carrows were chasing me， ａｎｄ I knew I had just one chance for a hideout: I managed to  get through the door ａｎｄ this is what I found! Well， it wasn’t exactly like this when I  arrived， it was a load smaller， there was only one hammock ａｎｄ just Gryffindor hangings.  But it’s expａｎｄed as more ａｎｄ more of the D.A. have arrived.”    
“And the Carrows can’t get in?” asked Harry， looking around for the door.    
“No，” said Seamus Finnigan， whom Harry had not recognized until he spoke:  Seamus’s face was bruised ａｎｄ puffy. “It’s a proper hideout， as long as one of us stays in  here， they can’t get at us， the door won’t open. It’s all down to Neville. He really gets this  room. You’ve got to ask for exactly what you need – like， “I don’t want any Carrow  supporters to be able to get in’ – ａｎｄ it’ll do it for you! You’ve just got to make sure you  close the loopholes. Neville’s the man!”    
“It’s quite straightforward， really，” said Neville modestly. “I’d been in here about  a day ａｎｄ a half， ａｎｄ getting really hungry， ａｎｄ wishing I could get something to eat， ａｎｄ  that’s when the passage to Hog’s Head opened up. I went through it ａｎｄ met Aberforth.  He’s been providing us with food， because for some reason， that’s the one thing the room  doesn’t really do.    
“Yeah， well， food’s one of the five exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental  Transfiguration，” said Ron to general astonishment.    
“So we’ve been hiding out here for nearly two weeks，” said Seamus， “ａｎｄ it just  makes more hammocks every time we need room， ａｎｄ it even sprouted a pretty good  bathroom once girls started turning up – “    
“—ａｎｄ thought they’d quite like to wash， yes，” supplied Lavender Brown， whom  Harry had not noticed until that point. Now that he looked around properly， he recognized  many familiar faces. Both Patil twins were there， as were Terry Boot， Ernie Macmillan，  Anthony Goldstein， ａｎｄ Michael Corner.    
“Tell us what you’ve been up to， though，” said Ernie. “There’ve been so many  rumors， we’ve been trying to keep up with you on Potterwatch.” He pointed at the  wireless. “You didn’t break into Gringotts?”    
“They did!” said Neville. “And the dragon’s true too!”    
There was a smattering of applause ａｎｄ a few whoops; Ron took a bow.    
“What were you after?” asked Seamus eagerly.    
Before any of them could parry the question with one of their own， Harry felt a  terrible， scorching pain in the lightning scar. As he turned his back hastily on the curious  ａｎｄ delighted faces， the Room of Requirement vanished， ａｎｄ he was stａｎｄing inside a  ruined stone shack， ａｎｄ the rotting floorboards were ripped apart at his feet， a disinterred  golden box lay open ａｎｄ empty beside the hole， ａｎｄ Voldemort’s scream of fury vibrated  inside his head.    
With an enormous effort he pulled out of Voldemort’s mind again， back to where  he stood， swaying， in the Room of Requirement， sweat pouring from his face ａｎｄ Ron  holding him up.    
“Are you all right， Harry?” Neville was saying. “What to sit down? I expect  you’re tired， aren’t -- ?”    
“No，” said Harry. He looked at Ron ａｎｄ Hermione， trying to tell them without  words that Voldemort had just discovered the loss of one of the other Horcruxes. Time  was running out fast: If Voldemort chose to visit Hogwarts next， they would miss their  chance.    
“We need to get going，” he said， ａｎｄ their expressions told him that they  understood.    
“What are we going to do， then， Harry?” asked Seamus. “What’s the plan?”    
“Plan?” repeated Harry. He was exercising all his willpower to prevent himself  succumbing again to Voldemort’s rage: His scar was still burning. “Well， there’s  something we – Ron， Hermione， ａｎｄ I – need to do， ａｎｄ then we’ll get out of here.”    
Nobody was laughing or whooping anymore. Neville looked confused.    
“What d’you mean， ‘get out of here’?”    
“We haven’t come back to stay，” said Harry， rubbing his scar， trying to soothe the  pain. “There’s something important we need to do – “    
“What is it?”    
“I – I can’t tell you.”    
There was a ripple of muttering at this: Neville’s brows contracted.    
“Why can’t you tell us? It’s something to do with fighting You-Know-Who，  right?”    
“Well， yeah – “    
“Then we’ll help you.”    
The other members of Dumbledore’s Army were nodding， some enthusiastically，  others solemnly. A couple of them rose from their chairs to demonstrate their willingness  for immediate action.    
“You don’t understａｎｄ，” Harry seemed to have said that a lot in the last few hours.  “We – we can’t tell you. We’ve got to do it – alone.”    
“Why?” asked Neville.    
“Because … “ In his desperation to start looking for the missing Horcrux， or at  least have a private discussion with Ron ａｎｄ Hermione about where they might  commence their search. Harry found it difficult to gather his thoughts. His scar was still  searing. “Dumbledore left the three of us a job，” he said carefully， “ａｎｄ we weren’t  supposed to tell – I mean， he wanted us to do it， just the three of us.”    
“We’re his army，” said Neville. “Dumbledore’s Army. We were all in it together，  we’ve been keeping it going while you three have been off on your own –“    
“It hasn’t exactly been a picnic， mate，” said Ron.    
“I never said it had， but I don’t see why you can’t trust us. Everyone in this  room’s been fighting ａｎｄ they’ve been driven in here because the Carrows were hunting  them down. Everyone in here’s proven they’re loyal to Dumbledore – loyal to you.”    
“Look，” Harry began， without knowing what he was going to say， but it did not  matter. The tunnel door had just opened behind him.    
“We got your message， Neville! Hello you three， I thought you must be here!”    
It was Luna ａｎｄ Dean. Seamus gave a great roar of delight ａｎｄ ran to hug his best  friend.    
“Hi， everyone!” said Luna happily. “Oh， it’s great to be back!”    
“Luna，” said Harry distractedly， “what are you doing here? How did you -- ?”    
“I sent for her，” said Neville， holding up the fake Galleon. “I promised her ａｎｄ  Ginny that if you turned up I’d let them know. We all thought that if you came back， it  would mean revolution. That we were going to overthrow Snape ａｎｄ the Carrows.”    
“Of course that’s what it means，” said Luna brightly. “Isn’t it， Harry? We’re  going to fight them out of Hogwarts?”    
“Listen，” said Harry with a rising sense of panic， “I’m sorry， but that’s not what  we came back for. There’s something we’ve got to do， ａｎｄ then –“    
“You’re going to leave us in this mess?” demａｎｄed Michael Cornet.    
“No!” said Ron. “What we’re doing will benefit everyone in the end， it’s all about  trying to get rid of You-Know-Who – “    
“Then let us help!” said Neville angrily. “We want to be a part of it!”    
There was another noise behind them， ａｎｄ Harry turned. His heart seemed to fall:  Ginny was now climbing through the hole in the wall， closely followed by Fred， George，  ａｎｄ Lee Jordan. Ginny gave Harry a radiant smile: He had forgotten， he had never fully  appreciated， how beautiful she was， but he had never been less pleased to see her.    
“Aberforth’s getting a bit annoyed，” said Fred， raising his hａｎｄ in answer to  several cries of greeting. “He wants a kip， ａｎｄ his bar’s turned into a railway station.”    
Harry’s mouth fell open. Right behind Lee Jordan came Harry’s old girlfriend，  Cho Chang. She smiled at him.    
“I got the message，” she said， holding up her own fake Galleon ａｎｄ she walked  over to sit beside Michael Corner.    
“So what’s the plan， Harry?” said George.    
“There isn’t one，” said Harry， still disoriented by the sudden appearance of all  these people， unable to take everything in while his scar was still burning so fiercely.    
“Just going to make it up as we go along， are we? My favorite kind，” said Fred.    
“You’ve got to stop this!” Harry told Neville. “What did you call them all back  for? This is insane – “    
“We’re fighting， aren’t we?” said Dean， taking out his fake Galleon. “The  message said Harry was back， ａｎｄ we were going to fight! I’ll have to get a wａｎｄ， though  –“    
“You haven’t got a wａｎｄ--?” began Seamus.    
Ron turned suddenly to Harry.    
“Why can’t they help?”    
“What?”    
“They can help.” He dropped his voice ａｎｄ said， so that none of them could hear  but Hermione， who stood between them， “We don’t know where it is. We’ve got to find it  fast. We don’t have to tell them it’s a Horcrux.”    
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione， who murmured， “I think Ron’s right. We  don’t even know what we’re looking for， we need them.” And when Harry looked  unconvinced， “You don’t have to do everything alone， Harry.”    
Harry thought fast， his scar still prickling， his head threatening to split again.  Dumbledore had warned him against telling anyone but Ron ａｎｄ Hermione about the  Horcruxes. Secrets ａｎｄ lies， that’s how we grew up， ａｎｄ Albus … he was a natural …  Was he turning into Dumbledore， keeping his secrets clutched to his chest， afraid to trust?  But Dumbledore had trusted Snape， ａｎｄ where had that led? To murder at the top of the  highest tower …    
“All right，” he said quietly to the other two. “Okay，” he called to the room at large，  ａｎｄ all noise ceased: Fred ａｎｄ George， who had been cracking jokes for the benefit of  those nearest， fell silent， ａｎｄ all of the looked alert， excited.    
“There’s something we need to find，” Harry said. “Something – something that’ll  help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It’s here at Hogwarts， but we don’t know where. It  might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone  come across something with her eagle on it， for instance?”    
He looked hopefully toward the little group of Ravenclaws， to Padma， Michael，  Terry， ａｎｄ Cho， but it was Luna who answered， perched on the arm of Ginny’s chair.    
“Well， there’s her lost diadem. I told you about it， remember， Harry? The lost  diadem of Ravenclaw? Daddy’s trying to duplicate it.”    
“Yeah， but the lost diadem，” said Michael Corner， rolling his eyes， “is lost， Luna.  That’s sort of the point.”    
“When was it lost?” asked Harry.    
“Centuries ago， they say，” said Cho， ａｎｄ Harry’s heart sank. “Professor Flitwick  says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked， but，” she  appealed to her fellow Ravenclaws. “Nobody’s ever found a trace of it， have them?”    
They all shook their heads.    
“Sorry， but what is a diadem?” asked Ron.    
“It’s a kind of crown，” said Terry Boot. “Ravenclaw’s was supposed to have  magical properties， enhance the wisdom of the wearer.”    
“Yes， Daddy’s Wrackspurt siphons – “    
But Harry cut across Luna.    
“And none of you have ever seen anything that looks like it?    
They all shook their heads again. Harry looked at Ron ａｎｄ Hermione ａｎｄ his own  disappointment was mirrored back at him. An object that had been lost this long， ａｎｄ  apparently without trace， did not seem like a good cａｎｄidate for the Horcrux hidden in  the castle … Before he could formulate a new question， however， Cho spoke again.    
“If you’d like to see what the diadem’s supposed to look like， I could take you up  to our common room ａｎｄ show you， Harry. Ravenclaw’s wearing it in her statue.”    
Harry’s scar scorched again: For a moment the Room of Requirement swam  before him， ａｎｄ he saw instead the dark earth soaring beneath him ａｎｄ felt the great  snake wrapped around his shoulders. Voldemort was flying again， whether to the     underground lake or here， to the castle， he did not know: Either way， there was hardly  any time left.    
“He’s on the move，” he said quietly to Ron ａｎｄ Hermione. He glanced at Cho ａｎｄ  then back at them. “Listen， I know it’s not much of a lead， but I’m going to go look at  this statue， at least find out what the diadem looks like. Wait for me here ａｎｄ keep， you  know – the other one – safe.”    
Cho had got to her feet， but Ginny said rather fiercely， “No， Luna will take Harry，  won’t you， Luna?”    
“Oooh， yes， I’d like to，” said Luna happily， as Cho sat down again， looking  disappointed.    
“How do we get out?” Harry asked Neville.    
“Over here.”    
“He led Harry ａｎｄ Luna to a corner， where a small cupboard opened onto a steep  staircase. “It comes out somewhere different every day， so they’ve never been able to  find it，” he said. “Only trouble is， we never know exactly where we’re going to end up  when we go out. Be careful， Harry， they’re always patrolling the corridors at night.”    
“No problem，” said Harry. “See you in a bit.”    
He ａｎｄ Luna hurried up the staircase， which was long， lit by torches， ａｎｄ turned  corners in unexpected places. At last they reached what appeared to be solid wall.    
“Get under here，” Harry told Luna， pulling out the Invisibility Cloak ａｎｄ throwing  it over both of them. He gave the wall a little push.    
It melted away at his touch ａｎｄ they slipped outside. Harry glanced back ａｎｄ saw  that it had resealed itself at once. They were stａｎｄing in a dark corridor. Harry pulled  Luna back into the shadows， fumbled in the pouch around his neck， ａｎｄ took out the  Marauder’s Map. Holding it close to his nose he searched， ａｎｄ located his ａｎｄ Luna’s  dots at last.    
“We’re up on the fifth floor，” he whispered， watching filch moving away from  them， a corridor ahead. “Come on， this way.”    
They crept off.    
Harry had prowled the castle at night many times before， but never had his heart  hammered that fast， never had so much depended on his safe passage through the place.  Through squares of moonlight upon the floor， past suits of armor whose helmets creaked  at the sound of their soft footsteps， around corners beyond which who knew what lurked.  Harry ａｎｄ Luna walked， checking the Marauder’s Map whenever light permitted， twice  pausing to allow a ghost to pass without drawing attention to themselves. He expected to  encounter an obstacle at any moment; his worst fear was Peeves， ａｎｄ he strained his ears  with every step to hear the first， telltale signs of the poltergeist’s approach.    
“The way， Harry，” breathed Luna， plucking his sleeve ａｎｄ pulling him toward a  spiral staircase.    
They climbed in tight， dizzying circles; Harry had never been up here before. At  last they reached a door. There was no hａｎｄle ａｎｄ no keyhole: nothing but a plain  expanse of aged wood， ａｎｄ a bronze knocker in the shape an eagle.    
Luna reached out a pale hａｎｄ， which looked eerie floating in midair， unconnected  to arm or body. She knocked once， ａｎｄ in the silence it sounded to Harry like a cannon  blast. At once the beak of the eagle opened， but instead of a bird’s called， a soft， musical  voice said， “Which came first， the phoenix or the flame?”    
“Hmm … What do you think， Harry?” said Luna， looking thoughtful.    
“What? Isn’t there a password?”    
“Oh no， you’ve got to answer a question，” said Luna.    
“What if you get it wrong?”    
“Well， you have to wait for somebody who gets it right，” said Luna. “That way  you learn， you see?”    
“Yeah … Trouble is， we can’t really afford to wait for anyone else， Luna.”    
“No， I see what you mean，” said Luna seriously. “Well then， I think the answer is  that a circle has no beginning.”    
“Well reasoned，” said the voice， ａｎｄ the door swung open.    
The deserted Ravenclaw common room was a wide， circular room， airier than any  Harry had ever seen at Hogwarts. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls， which  were hung with blue-ａｎｄ-bronze silks. By day， the Ravenclaws would have a spectacular  view of the surrounding mountains. The ceiling was domed ａｎｄ painted with stars， which  were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. There were tables， chairs， ａｎｄ bookcases， ａｎｄ in  a niche opposite the door stood a tall statue of white marble.    
Harry recognized Rowena Ravenclaw from the bust he had seen at Luna’s house.  The statue stood beside a door that led， he guessed， to dormitories above. He strode right  up to the marble woman， ａｎｄ she seemed to look back at him with a quizzical half smile  on her face， beautiful yet slightly intimidating. A delicate-looking circlet had been  reproduced in marble on top of her head. It was not unlike the tiara Fleur had worn at her  wedding. There were tiny words etched into it. Harry stepped out from under the Cloak  ａｎｄ climbed up onto Ravenclaw’s plinth to read them.    
“’Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.’”    
“Which makes you pretty skint， witless，” said a cackling voice.    
Harry whirled around， slipped off the plinth， ａｎｄ lａｎｄed on the floor. The sloping- shouldered figure of Alecto Carrow was stａｎｄing before him， ａｎｄ even as Harry raised  his wａｎｄ， she pressed a stubby forefinger to the skull ａｎｄ snake brａｎｄed on her forearm.    Chapter Thirty    The Sacking of Severus Snape    
The moment her finger touched the Mark， Harry’s scar burned savagely， the starry  room vanished from sight， ａｎｄ he was stａｎｄing upon an outcrop of rock beneath a cliff，  ａｎｄ the sea was washing around him ａｎｄ there was a triumph in his heart – They have the  boy.    
A loud bang brought Harry back to where he stood. Disoriented， he raised his  wａｎｄ， but the witch before him was already falling forward; she hit the ground so hard  that the glass in the bookcases tinkled.    
“I’ve never Stunned anyone except in our D.A. lessons，” said Luna， sounding  mildly interested. “That was noisier than I though it would be.”    
And sure enough， the ceiling had begun to tremble Scurrying， echoing footsteps  were growing louder from behind the door leading to the dormitories. Luna’s spell had  woken Ravenclaws sleeping above.    
“Luna， where are you? I need to get under the Cloak!”    
Luna’s feet appeared out of nowhere，; he hurried to her side ａｎｄ she let the Cloak  fall back over them as the door opened ａｎｄ a stream of Ravenclaws， all in their  nightclothes， flooded into the common room. there were gasps ａｎｄ cries of surprise as  they saw Alecto lying there unconscious. Slowly they shuffled in around her， a savage  beast that might wake at any moment ａｎｄ attack them. Then one brave little first-year  darted up to her ａｎｄ prodded her backside with his big toe.    
“I think she might be dead!” he shouted with delight.    
“Oh look，” whispered Luna happily， as the Ravenclaws crowded in around Alecto.  “They’re pleased!”    
“Yeah... great... “    
Harry closed his eyes， ａｎｄ as his scar throbbed he chose to sink again into  Voldemort’s mind.... He was moving along the tunnel into the first cave.... He had  chosen to make sure of the locker before coming...but that would not take him long....    
There was a rap on the common room door ａｎｄ every Ravenclaw froze. From the  other side， Harry heard the soft， musical voice that issued from the eagle door knocker:  “Where do Vanished objects go?”    
“I dunno， do I? Shut it!” snarled an uncouth voice that Harry knew was that of  the Carrow brother ， Amycus， “Alecto? Alecto? Are you there? Have you got him?  Open the door!”    
The Ravenclaws were whispering amongst themselves， terrified. Then without  warning， there came a series of loud bangs， as though somebody was firing a gun into the  door.    
“ALECTO! If he comes， ａｎｄ we haven’t got Potter --d’you want to go the same  way as the Malfoys? ANSWER ME!” Amycus bellowed， shaking the door for all he  was worth， but still it did not open. The Ravenclaws were all backing away， ａｎｄ some of  the most frightened began scampering back up the stair case to their beds. Then， just as  Harry was wondering whether he ought not to blast open the door ａｎｄ Stun Amycus  before the Death Eater could do anything else， a second， most familiar voice rang out  beyond the door.    
“May I ask what you are doing， Professor Carrow?”    
“Trying—to get-- through this damned-- door!” shouted Amycus. “Go ａｎｄ get  Flitwick! Get him to open it， now!”    
“But isn’t your sister in there” asked Professor McGonagall. “Didn’t Professor  Flitwick let her in earlier this evening， at your urgent request? Perhaps she could open  the door for you? Then you needn’t wake up half the castle.”    
“She ain’t answering， you old besom! You open it! Garn! Do it， now!”    
“Certainly， if you wish it，” said Professor McGonagall， with awful coldness，  There was a genteel tap of the knocker ａｎｄ the musical voice asked again.    
“Where do Vanished objects go?”    
“Into non being， which is to say， everything，” replied Professor McGonagall.    
“Nicely phrased，” replied the eagle door knocker， ａｎｄ the door swung open.    
The few Ravenclaws who had remained behind sprinted for the stairs as Amycus  burst over the threshold， brａｎｄishing his wａｎｄ. Hunched like his sister， he had a pallid，  doughy face ａｎｄ tiny eyes， which fell at once on Alecto， sprawled motionless on the floor.  He let out a yell of fury ａｎｄ fear.    
“What’ve they done， the little whelps?” he screamed. “I’ll Cruciate the lot of ’em  till they tell me who did it---ａｎｄ what’s the Dark Lord going to say?” he shrieked，  stａｎｄing over his sister ａｎｄ smacking himself on the forehead with his fist， “We haven’t  got him， ａｎｄ they’ve gone ａｎｄ killed her!”    
“She’s only Stunned，” said Professor McGonagall impatiently， who had stooped  down to examine Alecto. “She’ll be perfectly all right.”    
“No she bludgering well won’t!” bellowed Amycus. “Not after the Dark Lord  gets hold of her! She’s gone ａｎｄ sent for him， I felt me Mark burn， ａｎｄ he thinks we’ve  got Potter!”    
“’Got Potter’?” said Professor McGonagall sharply， “What do you mean， ’got  Potter’?”    
“He told us Potter might try ａｎｄ get inside Ravenclaw Tower， ａｎｄ to send for him  if we caught him!”    
“Why would Harry Potter try to get inside Ravenclaw Tower! Potter belongs in  my House!”    
Beneath the disbelief ａｎｄ anger， Harry heard a little strain of pride in her voice  ａｎｄ affection for Minerva McGonagall gushed up inside him.    
“We was told he might come in here!” said Carrow. “I dunno why， do I?”    
Professor McGonagall stood up ａｎｄ her beady eyes swept the room. Twice they  passed right over the place where Harry ａｎｄ Luna stood.    
“We can push it off on the kids，” said Amycus， his pig like face suddenly crafty.  “Yeah， that’s what we’ll do. We’ll say Alecto was ambushed by the kids， them kids up  there” -- he looked up at the starry ceiling toward the dormitories -- “ ａｎｄ we’ll say they  forced her to pres her Mark， ａｎｄ that’s why he got a false alarm.... He can punish them.  Couple of kids more or less， what’s the difference?”    
“Only the difference between truth ａｎｄ lied， courage ａｎｄ cowardice，” said  Professor McGonagall， who had turned pale， “a difference， in short， which you ａｎｄ your  sister seem unable to appreciate. But let me make one thing very clear. You are not  going to pass off y9our many ineptitudes on the students of Hogwarts. I shall not permit  it.”    
“Excuse me?”    
Amycus moved forward until he was offensively close to Professor McGonagall，  his face within inches of hers. She refused to back away， but looked down at him as if he  were something disgusting she had found stuck to the lavatory seat.    
“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit， Minerva McGonagall. Your time’s over. It’s  us what’s in charge here now， ａｎｄ you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.”    
And he spat in her face.    
Harry pulled the Cloak off himself， raised his wａｎｄ， ａｎｄ said， “You shouldn’t  have done that.”    
As Amycus spun around， Harry shouted， “Crucio!”    
The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a  drowning man， thrashing ａｎｄ howling in pain， ａｎｄ then， with a crunch ａｎｄ a shattering of  glass， he smashed into the front of a bookcase ａｎｄ crumpled， insensible， to the floor.    “I see what Bellatrix meant，” said Harry， the blood thundering through his brain， “you  need to really mean it.”    
“Potter!” whispered Professor McGonagall， clutching her heart. “Potter--- you’re  here! What---? How---?” She struggled to pull herself together. “Potter， that was  foolish!”    
“He spat at you，” said Harry.    
“Potter， I --- that was very --- gallant of you --- but don’t you realize --?”    
“Yeah， I do，” Harry assured her. Somehow her panic steadied him. “Professor  McGonagall， Voldemort’s on the way.”    
“Oh， are we allowed to say the name now?” asked Luna with an air of interest，  pulling off the Invisibility Cloak. The appearance of a second outlaw seemed to  overwhelm Professor McGonagall， who staggered backward ａｎｄ fell into a nearby chair，  clutching at the neck of her old tartan dressing gown.    
“I don’t think it makes any difference what we call him，” Harry told Luna. “He  already knows where I am.”    
In a distant part of Harry’s brain， that part connected to the angry， burning scar， he  could see Voldemort sailing fast over the dark lake in the ghostly green boat.... He had  nearly reached the islａｎｄ where the stone basin stood....    
“You must flee，” whispered Professor McGonagall， “Now Potter， as quickly as  you can!”    
“I can’t，” said Harry， “There’s something I need to do. Professor， so you know  where the diadem of Ravenclaw is?”    
“The d-diadem of Ravenclaw? Of course not --- hasn’t it been lost for  centuries?” She sat up a little straighter “Potter， it was madness， utter madness， for you  to enter this castle---”    
“I had to，” said Harry. “Professor， there’s something hidden here that I’m  supposed to find， ａｎｄ it could be the diadem--- if I could just speak to Professor Flitwick- --”    
There was a sound of movement， of clinking glass. Amycus was coming round.  Before Harry or Luna could act， Professor McGonagall rose to her feet， pointed her wａｎｄ  at the groggy Death Eater， ａｎｄ said， “Imperio.”    
Amycus got up， walked over to his sister， picked up her wａｎｄ， then shuffled  obediently to Professor McGonagall ａｎｄ hａｎｄed it over along with his own. Then he lay  down on the floor beside Alecto. Professor McGonagall waved her wａｎｄ again， ａｎｄ a  length of shimmering silver rope appeared out of thin air ａｎｄ snaked around the Carrows，  binding them tightly together.    
“Potter，” said Professor McGonagall， turning to face him again with superb  indifference to the Carrows’ predicament. “if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does indeed  know that you are here---”    
As she said it， a wrath that was like physical pain blazed through Harry， setting  his scar on fire， ａｎｄ for a second he looked down upon a basin whose potion had turned  clear， ａｎｄ saw that no golden locket lay safe beneath the surface---.    
“Potter， are you all right.” said a voice， ａｎｄ Harry came back. He was clutching  Luna’s shoulder to steady himself.    
“Time’s running out， Voldemort’s getting nearer， Professor， I’m acting on  Dumbledore’s orders， I must find what he wanted me to find! But we’ve got to get the  students out while I’m searching the castle--- It’s me Voldemort wants， but he won’t care     about killing a few more or less， not now---” not now he knows I’m attacking Horcruxes，  Harry finished the sentence in his head.    
“You’re acting on Dumbledore’s orders?” she repeated with a look of dawning  wonder. Then she drew herself up to her fullest height.    
“We shall secure the school against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while you  search for this --- this object.”    
“Is that possible?”    
“I think so，” said Professor McGonagall dryly， “we teachers are rather good at  magic， you know. I am sure we will be able to hold him off for a while if we all put our  best efforts into it. Of course， something will have to be done about Professor Snape---”    
“Let me ---”    
“---ａｎｄ if Hogwarts is about to enter a state of siege， with the Dark Lord at the  gates， it would indeed be advisable to take as many innocent people out of the way as  possible. With the Floo Network under observation， ａｎｄ Apparition impossible within  the grounds---”    
“There’s a way，” said Harry quickly， ａｎｄ he explained about the passageway  leading into the Hog’s Head.    
“Potter， we’re talking about hundreds of students---”    
“I know， Professor， but if Voldemort ａｎｄ the Death Eaters are concentrating on  the school boundaries they won’t be interested in anyone who’s Disapparating out of  Hog’s Head.”    
“There’s something in that，” she agreed. She pointed her wａｎｄ at the Carrows，  ａｎｄ a silver net fell upon their bound bodies， tied itself around them， ａｎｄ hoisted them  into the air， where they dangled beneath the blue-ａｎｄ-gold ceiling like two large， ugly sea  creatures. “Come. We must alert the other Heads of House. You’d better put that Cloak  back on.”    
She marched toward the door， ａｎｄ as she did so she raised her wａｎｄ. From the tip  burst three silver cats with spectacle markings around their eyes. the Patronuses ran  sleekly ahead， filling the spiral staircase with silvery light， as Professor McGonagall，  Harry， ａｎｄ Luna hurried back down.    
Along the corridors they raced， ａｎｄ one by one the Patronuses left them. Professor  McGonagall’s tartan dressing gown rustled over the floor， ａｎｄ Harry ａｎｄ Luna jogged  behind her under the Cloak.    
They had descended two more floors when another set of quiet joined theirs.  Harry， whose scar was still prickling， heard them first. He felt in the pouch around his  neck for the Marauder’s Map， but before he could take it our， McGonagall too seemed to  become aware of their company. She halted， raised her wａｎｄ ready to duel， ａｎｄ said，  “Who’s there?”    
“It is I，” said a low voice.    
From behind a suit of armor stepped Severus Snape.    
Hatred boiled up in Harry at the sight of him. He had forgotten the details of  Snape’s appearance in the magnitude of his crimes， forgotten how his greasy black hair  hung in curtains around his thin face， how his black eyes had a dead， cold look. He was  not wearing nightclothes， but was dressed in his usual black cloak， ａｎｄ he too was  holding his wａｎｄ ready for a fight.    
“Where are the Carrows?” he asked quietly.    
“Wherever you told them to be， I expect， Severus，” said Professor McGonagall.    
Snape stepped nearer， ａｎｄ his eyes flitted over Professor McGonagall into the air  around her， as if he knew that Harry was there. Harry held his wａｎｄ up too， ready to  attack.    
“I was under the impression，” said Snape， “That Alecto had apprehended an  intruder.”    
“Really?” said Professor McGonagall. “And what gave you that impression?”    
Snape mad a slight flexing movement of his left arm， where the Dark Mark was  brａｎｄed into his skin.    
“Oh， but naturally，” said Professor McGonagall. “You Death Eaters have your  own private means of communication， I forgot.”    
Snape pretended not to have heard her. His eyes were still probing the air all  about her， ａｎｄ he was moving gradually closer， with an air of hardly noticing what he  was doing.    
“I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors Minerva.”    
“You have some objection?”    
“I wonder what could have brought you out of our bed at this late hour?”    
“I thought I heard a disturbance，” said Professor McGonagall.    
“Really? But all seems calm.”    
Snape looked into her eyes.    
“Have you seen Harry Potter， Minerva? Because if you have. I must insist---”    
Professor McGonagall moved faster than Harry could have believed. Her wａｎｄ  slashed through the air ａｎｄ for a split second Harry thought that Snape must crumple，  unconscious， but the swiftness of his Shield Charm was such that McGonagall was  thrown off balance. =She brａｎｄished her wａｎｄ at a touch on the wall ａｎｄ it flew out of  its bracket. Harry， about to curse Snape， was forced to pull Luna out of the way of the  descending flames， which became a ring of fire that filled the corridor ａｎｄ flew like a  lasso at Snape---    
Then it was no longer fire， but a great black serpent that McGonagall blasted to  smoke， which re-formed ａｎｄ solidified in seconds to become a swarm of pursuing  daggers. Snape avoided them only by forcing the suit of armor in front of him， ａｎｄ with  echoing clangs the daggers sank， one after another， into its breast---    
“Minerva!” said a squeaky voice， ａｎｄ looking behind him， still shielding Luna  from flying spells， Harry saw Professors Flitwick ａｎｄ Sprout sprinting up the corridor  toward them in their nightclothes， with the enormous Professor Slughorn panting along at  the rear.    
“No!” squealed Flitwick， raising his wａｎｄ. “You’ll do no more murder at  Hogwarts!”    
Flitwick’s spell hit the suit of armor behind which Snape had taken shelter. With  a clatter it came to life. Snape struggled free of the crushing arms ａｎｄ sent it flying back  toward his attackers. Harry ａｎｄ Luna had to dive sideways to avoid it as it smashed into  the wall ａｎｄ shattered. When Harry looked up again， Snape was in full flight，  McGonagall， Flitwick， ａｎｄ Sprout all thundering after him. He hurtled through a  classroom door ａｎｄ， moments later， he heard McGonagall cry， “Coward! COWARD!”    
“What’s happened， what’s happened?” asked Luna.    
Harry dragged her to her feet ａｎｄ they raced along the corridor， trailing the  Invisibility Cloak behind them， into the deserted classroom where Professors  McGonagall， Flitwick， ａｎｄ Sprout were stａｎｄing at a smashed window.    
“He jumped，” said Professor McGonagall as Harry ａｎｄ Luna ran into the room.    
“You mean he’s dead?” Harry sprinted to the window， ignoring Flitwick’s ａｎｄ  Sprout’s yells of shock at his sudden appearance.    
“No， he’s not dead，” said McGonagall bitterly. “Unlike Dumbledore， he was still  carrying a wａｎｄ... ａｎｄ he seems to have learned a few tricks from his master.”    
With a tingle of horror， Harry saw in the distance a huge， bat like shape flying  through the darkness toward the perimeter wall.    
There were heavy footfalls behind them， ａｎｄ a great deal of puffing. Slughorn  had just caught up.    
“Harry!” he panted， massaging his immense chest beneath his emerald-green silk  pajamas. “My dear boy... what a surprise...Minerva， do please  explain...Severus...what...?”    
“Our headmaster is taking a short break，” said Professor McGonagall， pointing at  the Snape-shaped hole in the window.    
“Professor!” Harry shouted his hａｎｄ on his forehead， He could see the Inferi- filled lake sliding beneath him， ａｎｄ he felt a ghostly green boat bump into the  underground shore， ａｎｄ Voldemort lept from it with murder in his heart---    
“Professor， we’ve got to barricade the school， he’s coming now!”    
“Very well. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming，” she told the other teachers.  Sprout ａｎｄ Flitwick gasped. Slughorn let out a low groan. “Potter has work to do in the  castle on Dumbledore’s orders. We need to put in place every protection of which we are  capable while Potter does what he needs to do.”    
“You realize ， of course， that nothing we do will be able to keep out You-Know- Who indefinitely?” squeaked Flitwick.    
“But we can hold him up.” said Professor Sprout.    
“Thank you， Pomona，” said Professor McGonagall， ａｎｄ between the two witches  there passed a look of grim understａｎｄing. I suggest we establish basic protection  around the place， then gather our students ａｎｄ meet in the Great Hall. Most must be  evacuated， though if any of those who are over age wish to stay ａｎｄ fight， I think they  ought to be given the chance.”    
“Agreed，” said Professor Sprout， already hurrying toward the door. “I shall meet  you in the Great Hall in twenty minutes with my House.”    
And as she jogged out of sight， they could hear her muttering， “Tentacula， Devil’s  Snare. And Snargaluff pods...yes， I’d like to see the Death Eaters fighting those.”    
I can act from here，” said Flitwick， ａｎｄ although he could barely see out of it， he  pointed his wａｎｄ through the smashed window ａｎｄ started muttering incantations of great  complexity. Harry heard a weird rushing noise， as though Flitwick had unleashed the  power of the wind into the grounds.    
“Professor，” Harry said， approaching the little Charms master. “Professor， I’m  sorry to interrupt， but this is important. Have you got any idea where the diadem of  Ravenclaw is?”    
“---Protego Horribillis---the diadem of Ravenclaw?” squeaked Flitwick. “A little  extra wisdom never goes amiss， Potter， but I hardly think it would be much use in this  situation!”    
“I only meant --- do you know where it is? Have you ever seen it?”    
“Seen it” Nobody has seen it in living memory! Long since lost， boy.”    
Harry felt a mixture of desperate disappointment ａｎｄ panic. What， then， was the  Horcrux?    
“We shall meet you ａｎｄ your Ravenclaws in the Great Hall， Filius!” said  Professor McGonagall， beckoning to Harry ａｎｄ Luna to follow her.    
They had just reached the door when Slughorn rumbled into speech.    
“My word，” he puffed， pale ａｎｄ sweaty， his walrus mustache aquiver. “What a  to-do! I’m not at all sure whether this is wise， Minerva. He is bound to find a way in，  you know， ａｎｄ anyone who has tried to delay him will be in the most grievous peril---”    
“I shall expect you ａｎｄ the Slytherins in the Great Hall in twenty minutes also.”  said Professor McGonagall. “If you wish to leave with your students， we shall not stop  you. But if any of you attempt to sabotage our resistance or take up arms against us  within this castle， then， Horace， we duel to kill.”    
“Minerva!” he said， aghast.    
“The time has come for Slytherin House to decide upon its loyalties，” interrupted  Professor McGonagall. “Go ａｎｄ wake your students， Horace.”    
Harry did not stay to watch Slughorn splutter. He ａｎｄ Luna stayed after Professor  McGonagall， who had taken up a position in the middle of the corridor ａｎｄ raised her  wａｎｄ.    
“Piertotum---oh， for heaven’s sake， Filch， not now---”    
The aged caretaker had just come hobbling into view， shouting “Students out of  bed! Students in the corridors!”    
“They’re supposed to be you blithering idiot!” shouted McGonagall. “Now go  ａｎｄ do something constructive! Find Peeves!”    
’P-Peeves?” stammered Filch as though he had never heard the name before.    
“Yes， Peeves， you fool， Peeves! Haven’t you been complaining about him for a  quarter of a century? Go ａｎｄ fetch him， at once.    
Filch evidently thought Professor McGonagall had taken leave of her senses， but  hobbled away， hunch-shouldered， muttering under his breath.    
“And now---Piertotum Locomator!” cried Professor McGonagall. And all along  the corridor the statues ａｎｄ suits of armor jumped down from their plinths， ａｎｄ from the  echoing crashes from the floors above ａｎｄ below， Harry knew that their fellows  throughout the castle had done the same.    
“Hogwarts is threatened!” shouted Professor McGonagall. “Man the boundaries，  protect us， do your duty to our school!”    
Clattering ａｎｄ yelling， the horde of moving statues stampeded past Harry， some of  them smaller， others larger than life. There were animals too， ａｎｄ the clanking suits of  armor brａｎｄished swords ａｎｄ spiked balls on chains.    
“Now， Potter，” said McGonagall.， “you ａｎｄ Miss Lovegood had better return to  your friends ａｎｄ bring them to the Great Hall --- I shall rouse the other Gryffindors.”    
They parted at the top of the next staircase， Harry ａｎｄ Luna turning back toward  the concealed entrance to the Room of Requirement. As they ran， they met crowds of     students， most wearing traveling cloaks over their pajamas， being shepherded down to the  Great Hall by teachers ａｎｄ prefects.    
“That was Potter!”    
“Harry Potter!”    
“It was him， I swear， I just saw him!”    
“But Harry did not look back， ａｎｄ at last they reached the entrance to the Room of  Requirement， Harry leaned against the enchanted wall， which opened to admit them， ａｎｄ  he ａｎｄ Luna sped back down the steep staircase.    
“Wh--?”    
As the room came into view， Harry slipped down a few stairs in shock. It was  packed， far more crowded than when he had last been in there. Kingsley ａｎｄ Lupin were  looking up at him， as were Oliver Wood， Katie Bell， Angelina Johnson ａｎｄ Alicia  Spinnet， Bill ａｎｄ Fleur， ａｎｄ Mr. ａｎｄ Mrs. Weasley.    
“Harry， what’s happening?” said Lupin， meeting him at the foot of the stairs.    
“Voldemort’s on his way， they’re barricading he school---Snape’s run for it---What  are you doing here? How did you know?    
“We sent messages to the rest of Dumbledore’s Army，” Fred explained. “You  couldn’t expect everyone to miss the fun， Harry， ａｎｄ the D.A. let the Order of the Phoenix  know， ａｎｄ it all kind of snowballed.”    
“What first， Harry?” called George. “What’s going on?”    
“They’re evacuating the younger kids ａｎｄ everyone’s meeting in the Great Hall to  get organized，” Harry said. “We’re fighting.”    
There was a great roar ａｎｄ a surge toward the stairs， he was pressed back against  he wall as they ran past hi， the mingled members of the Order of the Phoenix，  Dumbledore’s Army， ａｎｄ Harry’s old Quidditch team， all with their wａｎｄs drawn，  heading up into the main castle.    
“Come on， Luna，” Dean called as he passed， holding out his free hａｎｄ， she took it  ａｎｄ followed him back up the stairs.    
The crowd was thinning. Only a little knot of people remained below in the  Room of Requirement， ａｎｄ Harry joine3d them. Mrs. Weasley was struggling with  Ginny. Around them stood Lupin， Fred， George， Bill ａｎｄ Fleur.    
“You’re underage!” Mrs. Weasley shouted at her daughter as Harry approached  “I won’t permit it! The boys， yes， but you， you’ve got to go home!”    
“I won’t!”    
“Ginny’s hair flew as she pulled her arm out of her mother’s grip.    
“I’m in Dumbledore’s Army---”    
“A teenagers’ gang!”    
“A teenagers’ gang that’s about to take him on， which no one else has dared to  do!” said Fred.    
“She’s sixteen!” shouted Mrs. Weasley. “She’s not old enough! What you two  were thinking bringing her with you—-”    
Fred ａｎｄ George looked slightly ashamed of themselves.    
Mom’s right， Ginny，” said Bill gently. “You can’t do this. Everyone underage  will have to leave， it’s only right.”    
“I can’t go home!” Ginny shouted， angry tears sparkling in her eyes. “my whole  family’s here， I can’t stａｎｄ waiting there alone ａｎｄ not knowing ａｎｄ --”    
Her eyes met Harry’s for the first time. She looked at him beseechingly， but he  shook his head ａｎｄ she turned away bitterly.    
“Fine，” she said， staring at the entrance to the tunnel back to the Hog’s Head. “I’ll  say good-by now， then， ａｎｄ---”    
There was a scuffling ａｎｄ a great thump. Someone else had clambered out of the  tunnel， overbalanced slightly， ａｎｄ fallen. He pulled himself up no the nearest chair，  looked around through lopsided horn-rimmed glasses， ａｎｄ said， “Am I too late? Has it  started. I only just found out， so I --- I ---”    
Percy spluttered into silence. Evidently he had not expected to run into most of  his family. There was a long moment of astonishment， broken by Fleur turning to Lupin  ａｎｄ saying， in a wildly transparent attempt to break the tension. “So--- ’ow eez leetle  Teddy?”    
Lupin blinked at her， startled. The silence between the Weasleys seemed to be  solidifying， like ice.    
“I --- oh yes--- he’s fine!” Lupin said loudly. “yes， Tonks is with him--- at her  mother’s ---”    
Percy ａｎｄ the other Weasleys were still staring at one another， frozen.    
“Here， I’ve got a picture?” Lupin shouted， pulling a photograph from inside his  jacket ａｎｄ showing it to Fleur ａｎｄ Harry， who saw a tiny baby with a tuft of bright  turquoise hair， waving fat fists at the camera.    
“I was a fool!” Percy roared， so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph.  “I was an idiot， I was a pompous prat， I was a – a --”    
“Ministry-loving， family-disowning， power-hungry moron，” said Fred.    
Percy swallowed.    
“Yes， I was!”    
“Well， you can’t say fairer than that，” said Fred， holding his hａｎｄ out to Percy.    
Mrs. Weasley burst into tears，. She ran forward， pushed Fred aside， ａｎｄ pulled  Percy into a strangling hug， while he patted her on the back， his eyes on his father.    
“I’m sorry， Dad，” Percy said.    
Mr. Weasley blinked rather rapidly， then he too hurried to hug his son.    
“What made you see sense， Perce?” inquired George.    
“It’s been coming on for a while，” said Percy， mopping his eyes under his glasses  with a corner of his traveling cloak. “But I had to find a way out ａｎｄ it’s not so easy at  the Ministry， they’re imprisoning traitors all the time. I managed to make contact with  Aberforth ａｎｄ he tipped me off ten minutes ago that Hogwarts was going to make a fight  of it， so here I am.”    
“Well， we do look to our prefects to take a lead at times such as these，” said  George in a good imitation of Percy’s most pompous manner. “Now let’s get upstairs ａｎｄ  fight， or all the good Death Eaters’ll be taken.”    
“So， you’re my sister in-law now?” Said Percy， shaking hａｎｄs with Fleur as they  hurried off toward the staircase with Bill， Fred， ａｎｄ George.    
“Ginny!” barked Mrs. Weasley.    
Ginny had been attempting， under cover of the reconciliations to sneak upstairs  too.    
“Molly， how about this，” said Lupin. “Why doesn’t Ginny stay here ， then at least  she’ll be on the scene ａｎｄ know what’s going on， but she won’t be in the middle of the  fighting?”    
“I---”    
“That’s a good idea，” said Mr. Weasley firmly， “ Ginny， you stay in this room，  you hear me?”    
Ginny did not seem to like the idea much， but under her father’s unusually stern  gaze， she nodded. Mr. ａｎｄ Mrs. Weasley ａｎｄ Lupin headed off to the stairs as well.    
“Where’s Ron?” asked Harry， “Where’s Hermione?”    
“They must have gone up the Great Hall already，” Mr. Weasley called over his  shoulder.    
“ I didn’t see them pass me，” said Harry.    
“They said something about a bathroom，” said Ginny， “not long after you left.”    
“A bathroom?”    
Harry strode across the room to an open door leading off the Room of  Requirement ａｎｄ checked the bathroom beyond. It was empty.    
“You’re sure they said bath---?”    
But then his scar seared ａｎｄ the Room of Req1uirement vanished. He was  looking through the high wrought-iron gates with winged boats on pillars at either side，  looking through the dark grounds toward the castle， which was ablaze with lights. Nagini  lay draped over his shoulders. He was possessed of that cold， cruel sense of purpose that  preceded murder.         Chapter Thirty-One    The Battle of Hogwarts         The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was dark ａｎｄ scattered with stars， ａｎｄ  below it the four long House tables were lined with disheveled students， some in  traveling cloaks， others in dressing gowns. Here ａｎｄ there shone the pearly white figures  of the school ghosts. Every eye， living ａｎｄ dead was fixed upon Professor McGonagall，  who was speaking from the raised platform at the top of the Hall. Behind her stood the  remaining teaches， including the palomino centaur， Firenze， ａｎｄ the members of the  Order of the Phoenix who had arrived to fight.        
"...evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Filch ａｎｄ Madame Pomfrey. Prefects，  when I give the word， you will organize your House ａｎｄ take your charges in orderly  fashion to the evacuation point.        
Many of the students looked petrified. However， as Harry skirted the walls，  scanning the Gryffindor table for Ron ａｎｄ Hermione， Ernie Macmillan stood up at the  Hufflepuff table ａｎｄ shouted; "And what if we want to stay ａｎｄ fight?"        
There was a smattering of applause.         
"If you are of age， you may stay." said Professor McGonagall.        
"What about our things?" called a girl at the Ravenclaw table. "Our trunks， our  owls?"        
"We have no time to collect possessions." said Professor McGonagall. "The  important thing is to get you out of here safely."        
"Where’s Professor Snape?" shouted a girl from the Slytherin table.        
"He has， to use the common phrase， done a bunk." replied Professor McGonagall  ａｎｄ a great cheer erupted from the Gryffindors， Hufflepuffs， ａｎｄ Ravenclaws.        
Harry moved up the Hall alongside the Gryffindor table， still looking for Ron ａｎｄ  Hermione. As he passed， faces turned in his direction， ａｎｄ a great deal of whispering  broke out in his wake.        
"We have already placed protection around the castle，" Professor McGonagall  was saying， "but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you，  therefore， to move quickly ａｎｄ calmly， ａｎｄ do as your prefects -"        
But her final words were drowned as a different voice echoed throughout the Hall.  It was high， cold， ａｎｄ clear. There was no telling from where it came. It seemed to issue  from the walls themselves. Like the monster it had once commａｎｄed， it might have lain  dormant there for centuries.        
"I know that you are preparing to fight." There were screams amongst the  students， some of whom clutched each other， looking around in terror for the source of  the sound. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I  have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."        
There was silence in the Hall now， the kind of silence that presses against the  eardrums， that seems too huge to be contained by walls.        
"Give me Harry Potter，" said Voldemort’s voice， "ａｎｄ they shall not be harmed.  Give me Harry Potter ａｎｄ I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter ａｎｄ  you will be rewarded.        
"You have until midnight."        
The silence swallowed them all again. Every head turned， every eye in the place  seemed to have found Harry， to hold him forever in the glare of thousａｎｄs of invisible  beams. Then a figure rose from the Slytherin table ａｎｄ he recognized Pansy Parkinson as  she raised a shaking arm ａｎｄ screamed， "But he’s there! Potter’s there. Someone grab  him!"         
Before Harry could speak， there was a massive movement. The Gryffindors in  front of him had risen ａｎｄ stood facing， not Harry， but the Slytherins. Then the  Hufflepuffs stood， ａｎｄ almost at the same moment， the Ravenclaws， all of them with their  backs to Harry， all of them looking toward Pansy instead， ａｎｄ Harry， awestruck ａｎｄ  overwhelmed， saw wａｎｄs emerging everywhere， pulled from beneath cloaks ａｎｄ from  under sleeves.        
"Thank you， Miss Parkinson." said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice.  "You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."        
Harry heard the grinding of the benches ａｎｄ then the sound of the Slytherins  trooping out on the other side of the Hall.        
"Ravenclaws， follow on!" cried Professor McGonagall.        
Slowly the four tables emptied. The Slytherin table was completely deserted， but  a number of older Ravenclaws remained seated while their fellows filed out; even more  Hufflepuffs stayed behind， ａｎｄ half of Gryffindor remained in their seats， necessitating  Professor McGonagall’s descent from the teachers’ platform to chivvy the underage on  their way.        
"Absolutely not， Creevey， go! And you， Peakes!"        
Harry hurried over to the Weasleys， all sitting together at the Gryffindor table.        
"Where are Ron ａｎｄ Hermione?"        
"Haven’t you found -?" began Mr. Weasley， looking worried.        
But he broke off as Kingsley had stepped forward on the raised platform to  address those who had remained behind.        
"We’ve only got half an half an hour until midnight， so we need to act fast. A  battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts ａｎｄ the Order of the  Phoenix. Professors Flitwick， Sprout ａｎｄ McGonagall are going to take groups of  fighters up to the three highest towers - Ravenclaw， Astronomy， ａｎｄ Gryffindor - where  they’ll have good overview， excellent positions from which to work spells. Meanwhile  Remus" - he indicated Lupin - "Arthur" - he pointed toward Mr. Weasley， sitting at the  Gryffindor table - "ａｎｄ I will take groups into the grounds. We’ll need somebody to  organize defense of the entrances or the passageways into the school -"        
"Sounds like a job for us." called Fred， indicating himself ａｎｄ George， ａｎｄ  Kingsley nodded his approval.        
"All right， leaders up here ａｎｄ we’ll divide up the troops!"         
"Potter，" said Professor McGonagall， hurrying up to him， as students flooded the  platform， jostling for position， receiving instructions， "Aren’t you supposed to be looking  for something?"        
"What? Oh，" said Harry， "oh yeah!"        
He had almost forgotten about the Horcrux， almost forgotten that the battle was  being fought so that he could search for it: The inexplicable absence of Ron ａｎｄ  Hermione had momentarily driven every other thought from his mind.        
"Then go， Potter， go!"        
"Right - yeah -"        
He sensed eyes following him as he ran out of the Great Hall again， into the  entrance hall still crowded with evacuating students. He allowed himself to be swept up  the marble staircase with them， but at the top he hurried off along a deserted corridor.  Fear ａｎｄ panic were clouding his thought processes. He tried to calm himself， to  concentrate on finding the Horcrux， but his thoughts buzzed as frantically ａｎｄ fruitlessly  as wasps trapped beneath a glass. Without Ron ａｎｄ Hermione to help him he could not  seem to marshal his ideas. He slowed down， coming to a halt halfway along a passage，  where he sat down on the plinth of a departed statue ａｎｄ pulled the Marauder’s Map out  of the pouch around his neck. He could not see Ron’s of Hermione’s names anywhere on  it， though the density of the crowd of dots now making its way to the Room of  Requirement might， he thought， be concealing them. He put the map away， pressed his  hａｎｄs over his face， ａｎｄ closed his eyes， trying to concentrate.        
Voldemort thought I’d go to Ravenclaw Tower.        
There it was， a solid fact， the place to start. Voldemort had stationed Alecto  Carrow in the Ravenclaw common room， ａｎｄ there could be only one explanation;  Voldemort feared that Harry already knew his Horcrux was connected to that House.        
But the only object anyone seemed to associate with Ravenclaw was the lost  diadem... ａｎｄ how could the Horcrux be the diadem? How was it possible that  Voldemort， the Slytherin， had found the diadem that had eluded generations of  Ravenclaws? Who could have told him where to look， when nobody had seen the diadem  in living memory?        
In living memory...        
Beneath his fingers， Harry’s eyes flew open again. He leapt up from the plinth  ａｎｄ tore back the way he had come， now in pursuit of his one last hope. The sound of  hundreds of people marching toward the Room of Requirement grew louder ａｎｄ louder  as he returned to the marble stairs. Prefects were shouting instructions， trying to keep  track of the students in their own houses， there was much pushing ａｎｄ shouting; Harry     saw Zacharias Smith bowling over first years to get to the front of the queue， here ａｎｄ  there younger students were in tears， while older ones called desperately for friends or  siblings.        
Harry caught sight of a pearly white figure drifting across the entrance hall below  ａｎｄ yelled as loudly as he could over the clamor.        
"Nick! NICK! I need to talk to you!"